Abstract
by Neko-chan -Silvered Tongue
Summary: Ritsuka’s life is made up of p i c t u r e s and w o r d s. F e e l i n g s. Comfort, Pain, Love. Ritsuka’s life is abstract and defined by Words. Ritsuka is Loveless.


Title: Abstract  
Author: Neko-chan  
Pairing: Soubi/Ritsuka  
Fandom: LOVELESS  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Ritsuka's life is made up of p i c t u r e s and w o r d s. F e e l i n g s. Comfort, Pain, Love. Ritsuka's life is abstract and defined by Words. Ritsuka is _Loveless_.  
Author's Note: As the title says, rather abstract. I just… let the words flow. Because, after all, this _is_ all about words. Right?  
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters depicted, though I wouldn't mind having Soubi for a pet

- - -

Words.

Words.

Words.

Words are important to Aoyagi Ritsuka. Words weave a tale of lies and deceit—words are special, treasured, immortalized forever in his 'memories.' Every picture Ritsuka has ever taken is associated with a word. Words tell the truth, words interconnect one another into a gossamer web: sentences that go on and on and on.

Ritsuka's life is made up of

_pictures_

and

_words_.

Ritsuka's life is made up of

_feelings_.

Comfort – Here is the association he feels with Seimei. Pictures of happy, smiling, _loving_ Seimei. His protection. His life, or so it had been until two years ago. Now there is only pain and loss. There are no more pictures of Seimei for Ritsuka to take; you cannot capture a ghost because a ghost is nothing more than a memory that lingers on. A ghost is intangible. A ghost is dead. Here, now: There is no homecoming for Ritsuka. There is no safe harbor. Perhaps it is because it was Seimei who was key in naming Ritsuka, giving his younger brother his true name. Loveless. 'One who is without love.'

Pain – Here Ritsuka finds pictures of his mother. The bruises, scrapes, cuts, scars; Ritsuka's body is a picture collage of tough love. Ritsuka's body is a picture collage of hate. Ritsuka's body is a picture collage of what he currently has: Nothing. He is Nobody. He is not a son, he is not a brother, he is not a lover. He's a ghost of somebody that used-to-be. Ritsuka is a picture collage of past lives, wishes, and dreams—pictures never tell the future, for they are only snippets of the past. Ritsuka was. Ritsuka was Loved. Ritsuka is Loveless. Ritsuka will be Loveless.

Love – This is Soubi's domain. "Ritsuka, I love you."

Words.

Words.

Words.

Ritsuka's life is defined by words. Ritsuka's life is defined by the words "I love you." Ritsuka's life is defined by lies and truth, and the razor-thin edge—the borderline—that lies between them. Words can be true and words can be false. So hard to tell the difference between the two when both are spoken with a smile. Sweet, sweet, sweet—the smile that speaks volumes.

"I love you."

True.

An order.

_True_.

There is always an undercurrent (an undertow), something that lies beneath the surface, that words can never convey. The undercurrent that pulls you down, sucks you under: down, down, down—down to the depths. Remember to take a breath before you drown, crushed by the weight pushing in at you from all sides.

"I love you."

"Don't say that!"

"Stop saying that!"

"I hate always thinking about you!"

Words.

Ritsuka's life is defined by words and pictures and feelings. Words that lie—remember the undertow before it sucks you under. Pictures that change—they are only memories, captured stills of time; time flies, time lies. Feelings—false friend, true foe; feelings are hidden, masked, denied. Ritsuka's life? Ritsuka's life is a tangled web of words and memories and feelings: he is caught in this tangled web, prey to the hunters that gather around him, intrigued by the scent of blood and pain that surrounds him.

Ritsuka is smudged in the ashes of his brother, a 'good morning' greeted with death.

Ritsuka's mouth is kiss-swollen from a love that is ordered, an obsessive litany of "I love you"s.

Ritsuka is made up of images:

Butterflies, pinned to the wall—pretty specimens in a pretty collection of a pretty sadist.

Scars, old and new; he knows that they will continue. (He does not know that Soubi will one day kiss them away, hiding away his own.)

Family, a lie. Ritsuka is used to the lie. Ritsuka is used to the screams, the denial, the empty void of where his mother, father, and brother should be. Ritsuka's family is empty. _Knock-knock_. Don't bother, nobody's home.

Violet eyes that cut like steel, glass upon the skin. There is wariness, hardness, cruelty. Ritsuka's life revolves around these eyes now, for these eyes hold his future. These eyes hold everything for him. These eyes are full of secrets: _Hi – mi – tsu_.

Ritsuka's life is made up of images:

Images of an undertow still pulling you down.

You're drowning in violet, a setting down tinting the water above you to blood-red, fleck of gold glittering brightly, floating here and there—you can only see it when the water hits it _just so_.

'It's pretty,' is your last thought.

-

A finger traces an ear and Ritsuka twitches in annoyance. "Stop it! You're distracting me. Go and do something else until I'm done!" he says and waves a hand off so that he can continue with his kanji homework. One, two, three: a chuckle, and the fingertip returns. Light, light—ever so lightly, and lips brush against Ritsuka's throat. The homework soon lies forgotten.

Words, images, feelings—_sensations_ and _sounds_.

Ritsuka's life has always been **tangible**.

-

Ritsuka's life is made up of sleepless nights, times when the night terrors won't leave him in peace. These are the nights where his life is made up of a comforting beep, one that notifies him of an incoming email. Here, when fear overcomes him, his life is full of texts and a comforting voice that talks to him until he falls asleep once more.

"Ritsuka, I love you."

-

Ritsuka's life is abstract, for nothing ever lasts and there is nothing in it that he can touch. There is nothing for him to hug or hold or keep close, clinging with all his might. There is nothing _concrete_ in Ritsuka's life, and perhaps this is the saddest truth _of_ Ritsuka's life.

Or perhaps the saddest truth is that Ritsuka's life is nothing more than a delicate working of lie upon lie.

Lies and truth: _**The**_ saddest part of Ritsuka's life is that there is no real way to tell the difference between the two.

For Ritsuka's life is abstract.

Words. Images. Feelings.

Ritsuka is not whole.

-

Ritsuka's life is based upon words.

"I love you."

Ritsuka's life is based upon lies.

"I love you."

Ritsuka is Love_less_.

"I love you."

Ritsuka's life has a kernel of truth.

"I love you."

-

"_Ritsuka, I love you_."

.. 愛してる。..

Owari  
:End:


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